Waiting Game
by symphonyflute
Summary: A snippet between M.A.D. and A trip to the Dentist. Logan is sick and impatient; Veronica is avoidant and worried' Wallace just wants to study for his test.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Waiting Game

Part 1/2

Fandom/Spoilers: Veronica Mars (Season 1, between "M.A.D". and "A Trip to the Dentist".)

Disclaimer: Love this show, but I can't claim it as my own. I wasn't even one of the fans who donated to the kickstarter movie, but in my defense I didn't catch this show until this year.) I borrowed a few lines in the middle too.

Summary: Veronica leaves Logan waiting for her on his father's yacht after she finds out he was the one who had GHB the night she was raped. In the next episode, he chases her down and makes her tell him what's wrong, and she finds out that he actually had nothing to do what happened to her. But that's no fun. So in my version, after he downs an entire bottle of champagne (high class, right?) he goes swimming in the harbor and it never really occurs to him to dry off before falling into a drunken sleep. What do you think could have possibly happened after?

A/N: I know it's an old show, so people probably aren't familiar with it. But you should be! It's really good, and the movie is coming out next year! And there are a lot of really great actors in it, and the stories are really good. So just hop on Wikipedia and figure out what's going on and who's who, and you won't be disappointed.

A/N 2: The show is told in the old fashioned film noir style, with Veronica narrating everything going on in the story, both to tie the event into the big arcs and to give her opinion. Italics are her narration.

A/N 3: I haven't written a fic in…I'm pretty sure years actually. I half-thought this up in rush hour today, and spent the rest of the night getting it down on paper. I'm obviously a little rusty. R&R to tell me how much you love bad boy Logan, by all means, but, go easy on me, okay?

It was lunch time. I had managed to make it through half the day without running into Logan. I knew I would have to talk to him eventually, after all, how long can you avoid the king of the 09ers in a town as small as Neptune?

But I wasn't ready yet. There's nothing wrong with needing to take a little time to process finding out that your secret boyfriend (and the boyfriend of your dead best friend) was the reason you slipped out of guest room at the crack of dawn with your underwear in your purse and your head in shambles.

I was just getting up to throw away my meatloaf (or steak. Possibly chicken), when, I don't know, he must have gotten a whiff of my scent or something. I saw his head jerk up out of the corner of my eye but, though I sped up, I couldn't get away from him quickly enough,

"Veronica!" _If you're that hell bent, you better try a lot harder than that. _"Hey Veronica, will you stop for two seconds?"

_Nope._

"Veronica-come on, just-"

Weevil's voice interrupted him before I heard what I should 'just' do. "You see, when they run away like that, it's kind of a hint they're not interested."

I froze at the trash can, tray still in hand, and Wallace, great guy that he is, started inching toward me in case I needed back up.

"You so don't want to start with me today, Paco."

Weevil grinned, almost evilly. "Are you sure? It was in my day planner under 'goals.'

Logan's lip curled back in a snarl. "How is this even any of your-"He broke off, blinking slowly.

"Any of my…?"

Buy instead of answering, Logan snapped his body in the other direction and sneezed openly toward the cobblestone.

Weevil took an involuntary step back, a disgusted look on his face.

"What, no gesundheit?" He made to move around Weevil, but he was unsteady, and his foot fell half an inch away from where he thought it would. He stumbled, and would have fallen, had Weevil not grabbed his arm.

The biker, stunned at the turn of events, gave me a "well-what the hell should I do about this look?'

"Do you want this?" he asked me, "or should I drop it on the ground?"

"Hey," Logan grumbled at him, pulling his arm away. "If any of us is an 'it,' it certainly isn't me."

"Are you going to do something with this, or can I handle this?" Weevil asked, directed toward me. The PCH members, Neptune's very own gang, started walking towards them.

Weevil didn't need anything else on his record, especially since he turned 18. "Come with me," I snapped, grabbing his other arm and pulling him away from the tables. Wallace gestured to himself questioningly, but I shook my head. I could handle Logan all on my own.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you all morning," Logan accused as I released his arm.

"Really, hadn't noticed."

"No? You normally go to the bathroom every hour and have your little sidekicks spying on me, warning you when I'm near? 'Oh no, big bad Logan Echolls is close. You better go pee for the eighth time to get away from him.'"

_More like Big bad Logan Echools is close, better hide your coke before he drugs it and lets half of the school make out with you._

"Look, Logan, I just don't want to talk right now."

Logan nodded, rubbing his hand across his nose and sniffing, an action that made him look irritated and on edge. "Okay, sure. When do you want me to come back and talk, never? Or, how about I go wait on a boat for you for four hours. Can we talk then?"

"You waited for four hours? It rained last night." _Yeah, because that's the point._

"I waited for you, downed the bottle of Dom, and went for a midnight swim. It was a blast, you should have been there."

"You went swimming drunk, alone at night?! You could have been killed. Did you drive it back to dock?"

He shook his head and rested his hand on the wall of the school. "Spent the night on the boat out at sea. Romantic." He waggled his eyebrows. "See, I had a date with a sexy…sexy…" He started blinking erratically again, and I felt my eyebrows move up to my hairline.

"Logan, are you-"

He sneezed again, andhis hand on the wall tightened into a fist, as the other came up to block his face.

I sighed. "Bless-"

He shook his head and gave me the 'one minute' sign with the hand that had been on the wall, before he brought them both up to form a tent around his nose and mouth and continued to sneeze painfully.

When he didn't sneeze again, or make any attempt to move from his hunched over position, I offered again. "Bless you?"

A muffled "thanks," came from behind his hands, before he sighed and lowered them to his knees, breathing heavily.

In my ever-so-vigilant avoiding, I hadn't gotten a clear look at his face all day. Now that I did, I saw the dark circles under his eyes, the pink nose, and the exhausted expression. I bit back a sigh; there was no way he was up to a tete-a-tete.

"You look like crap."

"And you, my tiny blond psycho, look beautiful as ever." He smiled in what I assumed was supposed to be a charming way, but it came across like an uncomfortable grimace.

It fell from his face when I didn't smile back. "Veronica, please. Talk to me."

Now I did sigh, and the sound of it furrowed his brows in what was either confusion, annoyance, or genuine hurt feelings. No, he definitely couldn't handle this today. It would have to wait.

I shook my head and, after just a minute of hesitation, put my hand on his upper arm. It was warm under my palm. He attempted to respond in kind, realized how unsanitary that was, and dropped his arms down in defeat.

"Logan, go home. Get some rest. I'll still have stood you up on the yacht tomorrow when you're rested."

He opened his mouth to argue, but broke down in a coughing fit and had to hold onto the wall again for support. Being the brave young detective that I am, I slipped away while his eyes were clamped shut and disappeared into the school with Wallace.

_I had to wait this long to find out about the party, Logan. You can wait one more night._


	2. Chapter 2

"Can I borrow your notes on Catcher in the Rye? I wrote down everything that he said, but I must've been half zonked because they don't one bit of sense."

I started rifling through my bag. "See, this is why you just write directly in the book." I didn't see it, so I started shoving things in Wallace's hands to get a better look. "That way, if you aren't paying attention in class, at least the notes are next to their own little passages and you know what they…correspond to. Huh."

The majority of my bag was now in my best friend's grasp and my book was nowhere to be seem.

"Well?"

"I don't know, it isn't here. Crap. We have a test on Friday."

"Could it have fallen out anywhere?"

I thought about it. The last place I had my bag open had been…..at Logan's. _It must have fallen out when I had to run into the back to hide from Dick and Beaver, like the other woman._

"Veronica?"

"Hmm? Oh, I think I left it on my desk at my dad's office. Can you wait one night? I can give it to you before class tomorrow."

"Beggars can't be choosers. I'll just cram during study hall instead of taking a nap."

"A serious sacrifice, I'm sure."

Wallace pulled the flap of my bag and dumped everything back in, completely unceremoniously. "All in the quest for academic success, my friend. Catch you later."

"See you," I waved halfheartedly as he took off to do whatever he was going to do, that wasn't visit his ex's house to relive the effects of their last roll around the couch and subsequent ride of shame home with said ex's father.

_Logan Echolls, here I come. _


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This was going to be a 2-shot, but now it's an "I have no idea how long this will be" shot.

"Knock, knock. Anyone home?"

As much as I'd like to say my voice was friendly and inviting to Logan to come open his damn front door so I could get away from here as soon as possible, it may have come across as cranky and annoyed. But in my defense, I was cranky and annoyed.

After all, this was all his fault. If he didn't have idiot friends who stopped by out of nowhere with no warning, I wouldn't have had to run out with my tail between my legs in shame. I hid in the bathroom, and Mr. Echolls brought me my bag. If I had been able to leave on my own accord, I would have made sure I had all my books.

I continued pounding on the door, calling out door-based clichés and pacing the front stoop until Aaron Echolls opened the door. He was wearing a robe, with a towel slung over his shoulders and wet hair.

"Veronica! What a surprise. I was in the shower; I hope you haven't been knocking long."

"Just a second or two," I lied. "I left my book here a couple nights ago. Can I come in and look for it?"

Aaron stepped aside and gestured for me to enter. I did, making a beeline for the couch and peering under it.

Dust bunnies, some skittles, and a pen. No Salinger. Crap.

I slammed my hand on the ground in frustration, causing a dust bunny to pop off the ground and blow in my face. I fanned it away, and gave up my spot on the floor, sneezing the crap out.

Don't they have a housekeeper?

"Ah, irony. Gesundheit," Logan's wry, albeit hoarse, voice reached my ear.

I caught him leaning on the door frame to the living room, staring at me in amusement. He had apparently taken my command to rest seriously, if his flannel pants and sleep mussed hair was any indication.

"Danke." I sat down on the couch (that was not harboring my homework), and gave him a once over. "You look even crappier than before."

"You know, that's what I love about you V: Your bedside manner." He held his fist in front of his face and coughed lightly into it, giving me a tired smile when he was done.

"You know me," I replied. "I tell it like it is."

"My dad says I'm just going through an awkward phase," he joked. When I didn't laugh, he frowned. "My humor isn't doing it for you? How about my dashing good looks?"

Before I could reply to that, Mr. dashing-good-looks himself started sniffling again. He pointed to the coffee table. "Can you hand me the klee-_heh.." _He held his wrist under his nose and gestured a little wildly to where I assumed they normally had a box of tissues.

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, but I was saved having to answer by his repeat performance of 'cafeteria sneezing jag in A minor.' _ACCHOO! HEhh…"_

It pretty much went on from there, and as he continued to sound like one of Snow White's dwarves I started feeling a little bad for him, and glanced looked away to give him some privacy.

When he had regained control, as evidenced by the heavy breathing and low chuckles, I gave him my attention again.

"On a scale of one to ten, how humiliated should I be?" He asked, hands on his knees and looking at the floor.

"About what? Sneezing your head off in front of me or asking for an invisible Kleenex box?"

"Uhhh…" Logan looked up and his red-rimmed eyes were damp and brimming with embarrassment. "Both?'

I pretended to give it some thought. "Three on the sneezing, since you can't help it. But seven on not knowing what's on your own coffee table."

He nodded, rubbing his hand across his forehead like he was in pain. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"I'll get you Kleenex, if you get me my book."

"Book?" Though it wasn't a foreign look on his face, Logan looked genuinely confused.

"Yeah, book. Pieces of paper with words on them held together with glue down one side. Used in English classes. Perhaps you've heard of them." At his blank look, I relented the sarcasm. "I left it here when Dick and Beav showed up and Wallace needs to borrow it."

"Book…" he repeated. "Catcher in the Rye?"

I snapped my fingers. "A-ha! You do know what it is."

"Only book in the house, V. Should've assumed it was yours. It's in my room."

He headed up the stairs, apparently expecting me to follow him. I did, but stopped off in the bathroom first to look for Kleenex. I had to uphold my end of the bargain after all. I looked in all the cabinets, but found nothing. Did no one in the Echolls house consider themselves human enough to need tissues?

By the time I had given up on the fruitless quest and snagged an extra roll of toilet paper, Logan was gone. No worries, I knew the way to his room by heart anyway.

When I got there, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, head in hands, resting on his knees. Basically, the poster child for pathetic man-cold ridden adolescent.

I might not be known for my compassion, but even I could push aside my anger for a couple of minutes to help this poor sad-sack. He is definitely going to get what's coming to him.

But it can wait one more day.


End file.
